


The Radio Demon Has No Holiday Spirit (Subjectively)

by Asperxiession



Series: The Radio Demon Has... Something [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor has Problems, Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Character Study, Christmas, Gift Exchange, Light Angst, Mentions of Violence, Mild Panic Attack (not explicitly stated as such), No Romance, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Relationships, Rating May Change, Relationship Study, Tags May Change, Voodoo doll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asperxiession/pseuds/Asperxiession
Summary: It's a Christmas miracle! Charlie's getting the staff of the Happy Hotel to participate in a Secret Santa! While Christmas isn't exactly a hellish celebration, she figures something nice like exchanging gifts on Christmas Day would be a good way for everyone to become closer to each other.This is an Alastor-centric fic. Reading "The Radio Demon Has No Weaknesses (Apparently)" is not required, but I will be using the same ideas and headcanons throughout both works.
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor & Husk & Niffty (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Niffty (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: The Radio Demon Has... Something [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574710
Comments: 26
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a small fic I thought would be fun for the holiday season. :) So, happy holidays, whatever or however you celebrate!

Charlie had insisted on bringing around a small container filled with pieces of paper, the name of each staff member scribbled on an individual scrap. Everyone had picked up a piece, silently reading the name to themselves. The name written on the piece of paper was the person they would have to get a present for. Niffty had been sent out to gather decorations from the depths of the Hotel, or elsewhere in Hell if she needed to. Alastor hadn’t been seen all day, likely hiding away from Charlie and her antics.

So, instead, she went to him. Knocking at his office door, she prepares a grin, holding the container up where Alastor could see it, if he opened the door but didn’t let her in. To her surprise, though, there’s a shuffle, a sudden slam, and muffled cursing before Alastor speaks up, somewhat muffled, as if he isn’t exactly facing the door. Or... upon opening the door, she shakes the suspicion off, grinning at him as she walks in, presenting the container proudly. 

“We’re doing a Secret Santa with the staff! I already asked around for the patrons to join, but not a lot of them wanted to do it. Since you weren’t coming down, I thought I’d come looking for you!” she chirps, leaning over the desk piled high with papers and shoving the container at him. There’s one paper left. She doesn’t know, exactly, but she hopes he gets someone he wouldn’t be opposed to giving a gift to.

Alastor’s grin shifts, no longer as forced as he tilts his head, looking as confused as he can with a grin plastered on his face. “What, exactly, is a  _ Secret Santa _ , darling?” he asks, plucking the container from her hands and looking down at it, moving the paper around inside without really looking  _ at _ it. His curiosity is a good thing for Charlie, though.

“It’s something where people get to give gifts to each other! You surprise them with a present you think they’d like, and someone surprises you with a present they think you’d like!” Leaning against the desk, she starts bouncing a little, watching him with an excited grin. If he’s curious about it, he might get curious enough to accept!

There’s a moment of relative silence from Alastor before he reaches in, plucking out the piece of paper with a bored expression. He reads it, then laughs. Tossing it back into the container, he hands it back to Charlie, shaking his head a little as he rests his elbows on his desk, propping his chin on his laced fingers. “Well, this will be incredibly easy! Do try not to overdo the decorations, yes? I’m certain there are several guests who won’t be quite so enthused!”

“I will! Don’t tell anyone who you got! That’s the point of the secret in Secret Santa!” she calls over her shoulder, making sure to close the door to Alastor’s office behind her.

Sitting back in his seat, legs crossed at the knee, Alastor lets his smile fall, frowning as he thinks back on the name he pulled, and the stipulations of a Secret Santa. Getting Husk a present he would like would be simple. Alcohol, obviously. The cat demon has always loved his drink. As far back as Alastor can remember knowing Husk, he has always had a bottle within reach, if not bugging someone to get him more.

But... he  _ is _ aware that... well, perhaps, he should offer something more to the demon that’s been working so hard to deal with him. Husk isn’t easily replaceable, like the drinks he guzzles. Husk isn’t cheap. Not like his drinks. Charlie said they had to get something they’d like. But... what does Husk like other than his drink? What could Alastor get him?

His hand twitches, and he snaps, bringing a small drawer to rest on his desk. Inside are a few layers of even smaller shelves, separated carefully to avoid squishing the contents. The contents are... small dolls. These dolls were made carefully, stitched together with bits of hair and fur. Nestled in a blanket in a corner is something gray and white and red. Pulling it out carefully, he brushes a finger over the head, lacking the top hat he always wears. It always got in the way. There’s a bit of wear to the top of its head, to the stomach and back. A bit to the hands. The paws?

A voodoo doll he made decades ago, back when he and Husk first began to work together. Extra work has gone into the doll over the years, piecing it together and adding details. More of Husk’s feathers have found their way onto the doll the longer they’ve known each other. More of his fur to replace what fell off due to poor stitching from a hand well out of practice. Better stitching. Better embroidery. Better care given to the doll. Tucked into the drawer next to a tiny Niffty that took him weeks to properly dye and dress. Both swaddled properly to avoid damage.

He doesn’t need the doll to punish him. He never used it to punish him. There never was a point where he had to; Husk more than punishes himself with his alcoholism, and it’s no secret. Alastor gently tucks the doll away once more, running a knuckle down the back and pulling the tiny fabric blanket back over it. Perhaps he should give the doll to Husk. He... trusts Husk. That is something he never would consider otherwise.

And something he will not consider again!

With another snap of his fingers, the drawer is returned to the spot it came from and he returns to his work. There is more than enough time to think about what kind of booze he wants to get for Husk. Something expensive? Perhaps something cheap, and in a large quantity. Or one of each! That's a _wonderful_ idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m open to trying something for the other characters, as well. If you have a perspective/gift-getting process for another character you'd like to see, let me know in the comments! Kudos are appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

Christmas Day approaches far faster than Alastor had initially thought it would. There were many days between the time he’d drawn Husk’s name from that silly little container and now, but... it seems he was wrong. Whatever had happened, he still had  _ not _ found an expensive drink, and he still had  _ not _ collected any sort of quantity of cheap liquor. No, instead, he is sitting at his office desk, hands empty, and staring into the same drawer he had been staring at nearly two weeks ago. This time, the doll in question is sitting up, giving him an empty smile as it stares right back, arms and legs folded as carefully into a mirror of one of Husk’s favorite poses. He can imagine the scowl on the doll’s face, even though a small, stringy smile is clearly already present.

Simply  _ magicking _ up some booze won’t be enough. Charlie would be able to tell the difference; Alastor simply had never attempted to learn how to make convincing bottles with proper labels and whatnot. A load of hooey! Nobody reads those silly things anyway!

No, no, no, half-assing it wouldn’t do. But he has, quite clearly, run out of time. Charlie and Vaggie have already assembled a small amount of gifts under the ridiculous pine tree in the lobby. Several of them were unmarked the last he saw of them, likely other Secret Santa gifts. Not “other” gifts, no, he doesn’t have one.  _ The _ Secret Santa gifts. He wonders who got him. It will be interesting to see what another thinks he likes.

There’s a knock on the door and Alastor whisks away the evidence of his pondering, plastering on an even bigger smile and pressing his hands to the surface of his desk. “Who’s there?”

“Niffty!”

“Niffty who?”

“A pretty nifty gal!” Niffty giggles, bursting into the room as soon as Alastor has opened the door for her, bouncing around and scrambling up his leg and hopping across to his desk as he strides back over. “Didja get your present wrapped up, yet? Charlie’s asking because all the girls and even Husk did theirs, and made sure to tell her, but you haven’t yet!”

Chuckling as he sits in his chair, he shakes his head, wagging a finger at Niffty and where she sits on his desk. There are a few bits of important paperwork trapped beneath her feet, but he knows cleanliness is nothing if not her thing. He’s nowhere near as worried about the paperwork as he is the potential trouble he will end up having to deal with, should his gift be visibly poor. “Now, now, little darling! You needn’t worry about something that I have well under control. Did you come to punch the bag, or did you have something important you needed to ask about?”

“Um... nope! I just hadn’t seen ya all day and I got so worried you were doing the thing where you pace around and make a track in the floor because I have to fill that up, you know! Oh! I’m done!” she chirps, as if suddenly remembering something. With her, it’s likely she  _ did _ just remember something out of the blue. She makes quick work of excusing herself from the office, closing the door behind herself as it locks on its own.

Perfect. Of  _ course _ Niffty would interrupt him when he needed the time to think about something.  _ Especially _ when he needed the time to think about something with a  _ time  _ constraint. He has until the morning to find, procure, discreetly package, and wrap whatever gift it is he’ll be giving to Husk. Discreet packaging should be simple. Any number of boxes would work fine. But what size would he need? Where would he find it?  _ How _ would he find it? What would he put in it?

It occurs to Alastor that he may not, after all, have time to go searching for a gift, and may be stuck with giving Husk his initial gift idea. He will, of course, have to take extra care in wrapping and packaging the doll, but it will save him the time of having to find something. Summoning the doll once more, he stares at it a little longer. Perhaps he can summon a box. The box is but a temporary container for the transfer. Surely that and the paper can be... less than perfect. While the outside he is more than happy to leave less than impressive, the inside can’t. It simply can’t. So he summons scraps of fabrics Niffty had brought him throughout the years. Sewing them together creates a large, almost quilt. A small box will be enough. Something he remembers seeing one of Husk’s glasses coming in, all those years ago. Red paper. 

Layering the quilt in neat folds at the bottom of the box, he makes sure to pull out the edges, so he can wrap them around the doll to keep it secure. Alastor lays Husk’s miniature down, being careful with his fingers so as not to catch any threads with his claws. He poses the small doll as if it were sleeping, like the few times Alastor had caught Husk sleeping in an actual bed, and not draped over a bar or table or other such surface. The feathers he picked up, or that Niffty found and enjoyed shoving up his pantleg when he least expects it; he arranges those, draping them over the doll, like an extra blanket. The tail is curled elegantly, the tip carefully shifted so as not to tickle the actual cat demon’s nose too much. With everything positioned just how he wants it, Alastor leans back in his seat, letting his hands fall to his lap for the first time since he began to stitch the not-quite-quilt together.

At some point he had gotten frustrated, securing his hair out of his face, rolling his sleeves up, well out of the way. His coat had been discarded long before, draped over the back of his chair. His eyes... ache. He may have forgotten to blink in the long hours of patching together the blanket just right, getting every tuft of fluff to lay just right. His back aches, as well. This one is much more understandable, easy to find the cause of. After all, he’d just spent several long hours hunched over a tiny project, and he hadn’t done something like this since he’d died.

Giving Husk full control over what he feels is not something he would do lightly. He’s faced with this reality again as he carefully tucks the doll in, gently closing the box around it. A flick of the finger wraps the box in red paper, decorating with a pearly bow he saw on the banister earlier. Gifting this doll to Husk, a doll he had invested so much time in, putting it together, putting so much of his own magic into it to properly convey each touch... it makes his skin crawl, but he isn’t quite upset about giving it to the very one it embodies.

All he has to do is wait and hope, and this is something Alastor is not a fan of. At least he can fit in a small nap before someone-- no, he can’t. Someone is knocking on his door. Snapping his fingers takes yet another small toll on his energy, but at least he’s fully dressed and properly presentable, and a glance in the single mirror in his office tells him he doesn’t look nearly as achey as he feels. So he opens the door to Charlie’s grinning, bouncing face.

“Are you ready, Al? It’s time!”

\---

With everyone sitting down in the lobby, couches and chairs pulled close to the fireplace in front of a gaudy wreath Niffty was entirely too proud of finding, Charlie declares the start of the Secret Santa by giving the first gift. She had Niffty, and the present was a brand-new sewing kit in all of her favorite colors. Bright and obnoxious, just like the paper it had been wrapped in. Alastor thinks that maybe he should have magicked up better-looking wrapping paper.

Niffty had Angel Dust, and excitedly handed over a large box, wrapped neatly and topped with several handmade bows. She bounces around the arachnid as he tears into the paper, opening a box to... several stacks of paper, and a very loud box that Alastor chooses to ignore in favor of staring at the wreath. Perhaps he should have gotten Husk some alcohol, seeing as Charlie isn’t yelling at Niffty for getting Angel something like  _ that _ .

Angel Dust had Vaggie. The box is small, slim, but still beautifully wrapped. Alastor’s grip tightens on the box on his lap, the paper crinkling audibly. Nobody seems to notice, so Alastor pretends it didn’t happen. Inside of Vaggie’s gift is a set of gorgeous knives, sharp and practically glittering in the firelight. He thinks that, perhaps, maybe, he should have invested actual money in Husk’s gift.

Vaggie has Alastor. One of his hands is glued to the box in his lap, shaking slightly. He can’t pull it off. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt  _ panic. _ At least, he’s fairly sure that what he’s feeling is panic. He hasn’t had to identify a feeling in years. Vaggie throws the gift at him when he doesn’t reach out to take it, and he stares down at it. He also hasn’t gotten a gift in years.

He hasn’t given a gift in years.

Alastor bolts upright, dropping Vaggie’s gift on the couch cushion where he’d been sitting, taking steps as long as he can to get out of there as fast as he can. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or why he’s going, but he just knows he has to get out. So he does. There’s something from Charlie as he goes up the stairs, but he ignores it, continuing to climb up, and up. He finds his floor, striding down the hall, the wrapping paper of the present crinkling as he holds it even tighter. This was a bad idea. It was a bad idea from the beginning. Why did he think it was a good idea?

“Hey, kid.”

He freezes. Husk followed him? When did Husk start following him? He’s still holding the present where Husk can see. If he moves his hands now, though, Husk will know he’s hiding the gift, and he can’t have that. It would be weak. So he keeps still, frozen, waiting to hear Husk’s voice, again. And when he doesn’t, he turns around to look over his shoulder, spotting a downturned ear, a top hat, and a furry face staring at him. So he makes sure his smile is wide as he turns to better face him. “Is there a problem, Husker, my friend? I don’t recall asking you to follow me!”

“Y’didn’t. Charlie wanted me to.” Husk looks disgruntled, but he always does. The twitching of his ears is what gives away  _ his _ emotions. The swing of his tail to another side, another position, another emotion. It took decades for Alastor to learn the general emotions. He doesn’t appreciate the complex emotion being displayed at all; impossible to read, and he doesn’t have the patience to figure it out.

He doesn’t bother, obviously. Instead, he holds out the box, the present, stepping forward so Husk can reach without approaching Alastor. Proactivity is always best. “Then here’s your present! Why don’t you open it back downstairs? I’m sure Charlie would  _ love _ to see your reaction!”

“The fuck’s this?” he asks, taking the box and looking it over, not turning it upside down thanks to a clawed hand on the lid. “Why can’t I turn it over?”

“Just go on and head back downstairs! I’m sure they’ll be pleased to see I participated!” Alastor insists, grabbing Husk by the shoulders and shoving him around, pushing him back towards the stairs with a single push.

Husk doesn’t do more than a bit of stumbling, still holding the present in both hands. Pulling on the wrapping paper makes Alastor freeze again, and Husk takes advantage of that, turning around and pulling the paper off, discarding it on the floor and peeling open the box, pausing for only a moment at the fact that the box was something familiar. He opens the lid and drops it, stopping at seeing the contents of the gift.

Alastor turns around, immediately starting to walk away, hands clasped behind him as he makes an escape. But Husk reaches out, grabbing at the back of his coat and tugging on it. “Don’t you leave. The fuck’s this? Tell me.”

“It’s a present, obviously!” He turns around, slapping Husk’s hand away, but... Husk is staring at the doll, squinting down at it. Pulling it out of the carefully wrapped blankets, he practically cradles it, holding it up to better look it over.

And this is where Alastor’s heart begins to pound, blood rushing through his veins and... panic. Panic, again. Of course. He should have kept walking. He doesn’t need a coat.

“Is this a fuckin’ voodoo doll?”

“Perhaps!”

Husk holds up the doll, shaking it and growling up at Alastor, dropping the box, the blanket spilling over the edge. The doll has clearly been through rough times, even despite Alastor’s attempts to patch it back up and make it flawless. “How long have you had this piece of shit? How long have you been  _ playing _ with me?” Even though Alastor does open his mouth to get a word in, Husk doesn’t stop. “I don’t wanna fucking know about you  _ playing _ with me! Fuck you!” Husk steps forward, shaking the doll harder, shoving it up in Alastor’s face. “D’you know how fuckin’ creepy and  _ freaky _ this shit is? I don’t want your dumb toys or whatever bullshit you’re tryna give me!”

Then he throws the doll at Alastor, slaps him, turns, and stomps away. Alastor feels the smile falter for just a moment before he forces it back on as soon as he sees Charlie peeking around the corner. She gets pulled away by Husk, though, leaving Alastor alone in the hallway, looking down at the doll on the floor. He crouches down as their footsteps retreat, fingers gently slipping under the doll, picking it up and holding it softly, running a thumb over the head. Snarling echoes up the stairs. So he stops petting it, and the snarling stops, and he simply holds the doll, lifting it close. He’d never had to throw the doll before. He’d never had the urge to. It held together well.

Something drips off of his cheek. It’s probably blood from a scratch, from Husk’s claws. They’re sharp.

Standing back up, Alastor collects the box, replacing the doll inside, and straightens out his coat. Tucking the box beneath his arm, he resumes walking to his room, ignoring the trembling emotions within. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this. Last time had resulted in a total extermination of a fair number of young, powerless demons he’d herded together. That had been several long months of bloodshed before he had simmered down.

When did he enter his room? Irrelevant. He sets the box down on his vanity, staring down at the dented lid, clasping his hands together in front of himself. They’re shaking, because of course they are. Alastor should leave. He should leave. He absolutely should leave before he levels the ridiculous Hotel and all the occupants.

That’s the best idea he’s had since this all started.

\---

Alastor returns later that night, well after Husk has usually drunk himself into a temporary coma. It’s as he closes the door behind himself that he realizes he’s miscalculated. Everyone is still very much awake, and very much gathered in the lobby. Everyone turns to look at Alastor as he walks in, conversation drifting into silence at the sight. He’s well aware he hadn’t quite cleaned up, if just to spite the holiday spirit.

“What? It’s red! It’s festive!” he chirps, throwing his arms wide and, coincidentally, sending some viscera splattering against the walls. Niffty immediately shoots up from the floor where she was sitting, dashing over and scrambling around the walls to clean it up, muttering and chattering away to herself. “If you’re worried about the Hotel, of course there’s no witnesses!”

“Al... we didn’t ask. Are you okay?” Charlie asks, moving to stand up from where her and Vaggie have been sitting.

That’s his cue. He leaves, striding up to the stairs and disregarding the trail he leaves behind for Niffty to clean up. “I’m perfectly fine! Why wouldn’t I be?” He laughs, twirling his microphone and spinning more mess everywhere. If he keeps his hand busy, nobody would be able to tell if his hand is still shaking.

There’s shuffling, muttering, a few different voices talking over each other as he leaves behind the lobby, heading straight for his bedroom once more. He has a few things to take care of in private, after all. The moment he walks in, though, he freezes up. Something is off. Something is different. Looking around the room, he doesn’t move any deeper into the room. If someone had gotten into his room, there would have been preventative measures that activated, maiming, if not outright killing, the intruder. 

Then he looks to his vanity, not finding a certain box.

The preventative measures wouldn’t have activated for a certain two demons. He turns, ears twitching at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, door still open and blood dripping from his coat into a puddle. They aren’t Niffty’s footsteps. No, it’s Husk that rounds the corner, holding the missing box in front of himself. Niffty is behind him, cleaning up after Alastor’s trail of gore.

It seems several long hours of disappearing was enough for Husk to calm down. Alastor has not.

“Hey. I didn’t mean t’get so... upset. Charlie an’ Niffty talked t’me.” Husk clearly had more to drink after Alastor took his leave. He doesn’t extend the box, holding it close to his chest, like he’s protecting it. Alastor isn’t sure he likes that. Clasping his hands behind himself, he hides the shaking. Husk knows what the shaking means. “I... thanks. Put Vag’s gift away for you.”

“Well, then, thank you, Husker! Why don’t you two run off and enjoy the evening? I’ve something to attend to!” He doesn’t plan on telling them what he has to attend to. He never does, and he never has to, and he never will. So he watches as Niffty ushers Husk away, only scampering back to clean up around his feet. He lets her, before he closes the door and steps into his room, slumping back against the door and sliding down to the floor, letting his smile fall and hands shake.

Husk apologized. He had the doll. He put Vaggie’s gift away for him. He didn’t yell and scream and fight. Something is dripping down his face, even though he was sure there wasn’t any wet blood on his head at all to avoid precisely that. Reaching up, he wipes at his cheek, pulling his hand away to check the blood, hoping it would show even on the stained gloves he’s wearing. There’s a lot of blood on his clothes, still; dry, drying, and wet. This isn’t blood. Tearing off his gloves, he throws them across the room, breathing hard and panting from the sudden panic of seeing the  _ clear _ fluid glistening on the finger of his glove. 

Then he slows. Freezes. Relaxes. His smile grows once more, splitting his face. Merry Christmas to himself, indeed. What’s more festive than a massacre?

\---

Husk returns downstairs, looking relieved. He’s holding the box close, but not smiling. There’s still a trail of blood from whatever Alastor had been doing, but nobody’s gotten hurt inside the Hotel, and that’s for the best. Charlie looks relieved that Husk comes back down, all in one piece, and covered in only a little extra blood than he’d gone up with.

Angel Dust doesn’t let the relief last long before he appears with mistletoe over Husk’s head, and Vaggie and Charlie laugh as he uses the box as a weapon. Niffty jumps over the back of the couch to help slap away the spider, laughing as she stands on Husk’s head. Husk just grunts, the smallest of smiles pulling at his mouth.

“I wish Alastor would join us,” Charlie sighs, leaning against Vaggie’s side, curled up in the oversized sweater Husk had gotten for her. He’d put a lot more thought into it than she expected, and she was excited to note down his progress, but... now she’s worried about the Radio Demon.

“It’s okay. You know he doesn’t like everyone that much. Maybe next year.” Vaggie never really talks about what she thinks about Alastor, since everyone’s pretty well aware of her distrust, but she can’t help but feel a little for him, when he looked as lost as he did during the gift exchange. “Maybe next year he’ll be more open. You’re pretty persuasive.”

Alastor doesn’t come downstairs for the rest of the night. Or, at the least, nobody sees him until well into the next day. Nobody brings it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't really happy with the pacing of the last little bit of this chapter, but I didn't really want to pack in a lot of gore or gratuitous violence when it was already getting fairly long. If anyone wants to read more about what Alastor got into, or if anyone wants to read more about the gifts and preparation of other characters, let me know in the comments! Other than that, I hope everyone has a good rest of the year, and I'll be back to posting on the first work of the series after New Year's!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk needs a drink. A few drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long wait, everyone! I ran into some IRL things that were screwy, but hopefully this chapter turned out alright! 
> 
> Thanks to my friend and beta reader [Smokey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smoke_and_Magic) for dealing with me and reading everything :)

Husk was up early. That’s strange in and of itself, but he wanted to see how things played out. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself as he flops down on a couch Angel Dust had shoved in front of the fireplace the night before. Niffty drops down next to him out of nowhere, wiggling excitedly where she sits. Thank fuck she’s quiet, though. He’s still got a hangover from last night, and he just knows if she tries talking to him he’ll have to start downing a bottle in Charlie’s face. That would put a damper on the princess’s first  _ Christmas _ at the Hotel. Fuckin’ fantastic.

He doesn’t have to wait too much longer, though. Charlie disappears upstairs for a minute, and she comes back down with Radio Demon in tow. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Alastor’s nervous, fidgeting with the box in his hands and constantly adjusting the smile on his face. He sits on his own on one of the other couches in the lobby, and Husk watches as he crosses his legs at the ankle. The guy never crosses at the ankle unless he’s trying to subtly relieve tension without giving it away. Husk’s seen him break his ankle during a meeting, before. 

Nobody sits next to him. Angel Dust claims the seat on Husk’s other side, leaning on the armrest like it’s a chaise lounge or some shit, Charlie and Vaggie curl up like lovestruck teens on the lone loveseat, and Alastor has his own couch. Most of the chairs in the lobby haven’t been moved; Angel probably didn’t want to move many of them, as well as whatever else he moved while Husk was passed out behind the bar. Then Charlie stands up, handing out the presents she’d collected from everyone. 

“We’re going to start now!”

Fucking  _ finally _ . Husk has been awake for far too long without a drink, already. He grabs the box from Charlie, tucking it on his lap as he leans back, watching her pass out the other presents. Everyone else’s presents are wrapped nice and neat, and his looks like a drunk shitheel wrapped it. Well, a drunk shitheel  _ did _ wrap it.

Sitting silently, he turns and watches as Charlie gives Niffty  _ two _ boxes. So one’s her present, and... she tears the paper apart like a rabid dog, revealing the gift Charlie had gotten for her. It’s pretty nifty. Neat. It’s neat. All the gifts are. Sewing kit for Niffty, a fuckin’  _ sex toy _ for Angel, admittedly expensive-looking and pretty cool knives for Vaggie, and... then she stands up, walking to Alastor. She waves the box at him, then drops it on his lap. 

Alastor immediately jerks, moving and dropping Vaggie’s present on the couch where he’d sat, and immediately starts walking away. His hands are holding tight to the present behind his back, and Charlie’s standing up to go after him. Niffty jumps up, clinging to Charlie and immediately talking her out of following. Husk sighs. Since he pulled Charlie’s name, that means Alastor has him, and that gift he’s probably crushing is his. 

So whatever is making him so tense and uptight has to do with whatever he’s gotten Husk, which means it can’t be some booze like he was hoping for. Standing up, he tosses Charlie’s present to her, stretching with a groan. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t eat anyone yet.”

He’s off and up the stairs before Charlie can stop him. Alastor hasn’t gotten too far, surprisingly. The Radio Demon’s sort of just standing in the hallway when Husk catches up, staring off into the distance and clearly not paying any sort of attention to who might have followed him. It’s never a good idea to touch and startle Alastor, so Husk doesn’t, remaining a good distance away as he speaks up. “Hey, kid.”

Alastor glances over his shoulder before he turns around. That means he probably wasn’t smiling before he turned around. The grin’s there now that he’s facing Husk, though, so he’s not totally frozen with whatever emotions he’s probably running from. It doesn’t fade while he speaks, so Husk feels relatively safe where he’s standing. “Is there a problem, Husker, my friend? I don’t recall asking you to follow me!”

“Y’didn’t. Charlie wanted me to,” he lies, scowling up at Alastor. He  _ knows _ something’s up, but he’ll be double damned if Alastor didn’t deny every fuckin’ feeling that wasn’t boredom. They’ve known each other for decades, and he still thinks Husk is dumb enough to forget he can read those permanent smiles. Those smiles? Over half of them are fake, plastic, cosmetic lies. He’s nowhere near drunk enough to deal with this already.

There’s a pause before Alastor strides forward, arm snapping as he holds the box out towards Husk. He chatters on while he remains otherwise still. Yet another fucking sign that he’s not okay, like he can pretend he’s unbothered. Like hell he is. “Then here’s your present! Why don’t you open it back downstairs? I’m sure Charlie would  _ love _ to see your reaction!” 

“The fuck’s this?” Husk looks the box over, pulling off the bow and glancing over his shoulder at the banister still in sight. It’s the same bow Niffty plopped on each post of the stairs. Of course it is. He goes to turn it upside down, but Alastor puts a firm hand over the top, forcibly keeping it the right way up. “Why can’t I turn it over?”

“Just go on and head back downstairs! I’m sure they’ll be pleased to see I participated!” Alastor practically snaps, grabbing Husk and  _ shoving him _ towards the stairs, making him stumble to catch his balance. His wings flex and tail whips to keep him in place, and he takes advantage of the natural barrier to start tearing at the wrapping paper.

Alastor’s frozen stiff, again, and he drops the paper on the floor. Husk stops for a moment upon seeing the image on the box beneath, but it isn’t the right kind of box, nor is the weight right. It’s way too light. Peeling off the lid, he drops it on the floor and stares at the contents of the box. He can hear Alastor turning and taking a few steps away.

Reaching out, Husk grabs at Alastor’s coat, yanking on the coattails out of the corner of his eye. The guy can’t fuckin’ be serious. This is creepy as hell, even if it’s not what he thinks it is. He really hopes it’s not what he thinks it is. “Don’t you leave. The fuck’s this? Tell me.”

“It’s a present, obviously!” he says, slapping Husks hand. He figures that’s fair enough, so he turns his attention back to the  _ doll _ inside of the box. Unwrapping the blanket from the top of it, he pulls it out carefully, bringing it closer to his face and turning it around, squinting down at it carefully. It’s got a lot of detail, and that alone is freaky as shit. There’s fur and feathers, and it’s clearly meant to be Husk himself.

Tightening his grip on it causes a ghost of a sensation around his middle.  _ Fuck. _ “Is this a fuckin’ voodoo doll?” he growls, turning his glare from the doll to Alastor, waiting for him to answer.

He pulls a weird face. The smile is still there, and it’s tight, but it’s one of those smug grins where he  _ knows _ something. “Perhaps!”

Husk is nowhere near drunk enough to be dealing with Alastor’s bullshit. He throws the box to the floor, holding the doll up and shaking it vigorously in the Radio Demon’s face. Not only was this a fucking  _ voodoo doll _ of himself, it was clearly in rough shape in some places, worn and torn and fraying. There’s only one thing he can think of that would warrant such wear and tear in a fucking  _ voodoo doll _ , and he doesn’t fucking like it. “How long have you had this piece of shit? How long have you been  _ playing _ with me? I don’t wanna fucking know about you  _ playing _ with me! Fuck you!” He takes a step forward, and another, shaking the doll harder even though he’s starting to get lightheaded from the movement. Even if Alastor’s going to try to talk himself out of this, he’s not letting him. “D’you know how fuckin’ creepy and  _ freaky _ this shit is? I don’t want your dumb toys or whatever bullshit you’re tryna give me!”

Without a second thought, he throws the doll in Alastor’s face, followed by a slap that feels all too good, drawing a couple beads of blood. Seeing the falter in Alastor’s smile before he turns away is more satisfying than seeing him smiling. As he stomps away, he catches sight of Charlie peeking around the corner, and he grabs her arm, pulling her away. If he knows Alastor at all, he couldn’t leave her there. She wasn’t involved past putting the stupid idea in the Radio Demon’s head in the first place, probably.

“Husk, maybe--” she falls quiet as Husk whips around, snarling at a ghostly touch on his head, between his ears. It stops as soon as it starts, and he continues pulling Charlie down the flights of stairs. “Husk, are you sure that was a good idea? I’m sure he meant well!”

“You don’t get it, Princess. That fucker’s been making voodoo dolls since the day he fell into Hell. And they fuckin’ work.” Once he’s sure she’ll follow him, more engaged in their conversation than tracking down Alastor, he lets go of her arm, crossing his own across his chest. “It’s creepy shit. I’ve seen him drive demons nuts using a damn doll.”

“Well, um... did you find out what’s wrong? Why he left so suddenly? He didn’t even open Vaggie’s gift, after all!” Charlie asks, keeping pace with Husk, wringing her hands in worry. It’s like she  _ cares _ about Alastor past him being a sponsor that eats other demons. She’s too fuckin’ nice.

He doesn’t answer. Husk didn’t really get the  _ why _ out of the encounter, but he can probably figure it out if he bothers thinking about it more than a little. If he wants to think about that, though, he’s definitely going to need a drink. As soon as they’re back in the lobby, he makes a beeline for the bar despite Vaggie yelling at him. Leaning over the bartop, he pops open a bottle of vodka. He needs it, and Charlie’s talking Vaggie down, so he’s not going to slow down.

Husk’s almost halfway through the bottle before Niffty jumps up on the bar, snatching the bottle from his hand and downing some of it herself. Unfortunately, he’s still not drunk enough to deal with everyone, and Niffty’s no exception. He swats at her, and she gives it back for once. “Charlie told us about Al! I bet he spent a lot of time on that doll! Remember all the ones he makes for the other demons? They’re always so rushed and awful! She said yours was so handsome and had so many feathers and I really wanna see it!”

That’s why he needs his drinks in the morning immediately upon waking. It’s not alcohol dependency. He’s not picking up the fucking doll and he’s not fucking showing Niffty of all people. If the little demon lady got ahold of whatever Alastor thought was  _ good _ then he’d never hear the end of anything from her. But she’s not going away even though he clearly wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying. Something about whatever shit she’d given Angel Dust? Like he cares, it’s probably gross, knowing the pornstar and what he likes to blabber on and on about when he’s drunk.

“Niff. Listen. I don’t give a shit,” he growls, knocking back a new bottle. It’s disgusting, but a disgusting comfort he could always come back to. Something he  _ always _ comes back to. “Why don’t you go fuck off and leave me alone?”

Niffty gasps, slapping her hands over her mouth. “Husk! You do care, though! Whenever you drink, you’re drowning those feelings you have! We all know that! And Alastor cares, too, that’s why he’s giving you the doll, duh! He loves you in his own way! Don’tcha get it?” He doesn’t even get to say anything before she darts forward, slapping a little hand over his mouth and shutting him up. “Of course you don’t, you’re a man and you drink away emotions! Alastor’s trusted you for a long time and he’s telling you now! It’s a bit step for him y’know! Obviously! Go get it!”

“No.” She deflates immediately, and he sighs, rolling his eyes and taking another gulp of... what is it? Whiskey? Cheap booze? He can’t read the label, and he’s not going to take the time to try and figure it out. “I don’t need Alastor to tell me he trusts me cuz that shit’s clear enough. Fucker makes sure I know,” he grumbles, dragging a sharp claw down the transparent glass of his bottle. It’s true. He knows Alastor trusts him, as weird as it is. The Radio Demon let him touch injuries to patch them up. Alastor doesn’t shout and growl and threaten Husk when he touches him. He doesn’t overuse his beloved sound effects after Husk made sure he knew the ones that triggered flashbacks. “That shit doesn’t mean I want a  _ fucking _ voodoo doll of myself.”

There’s a moment of silence. Blessed silence. Then Niffty’s zooming off, making a stop at the couch near the fireplace and rushing up the stairs with the box Vaggie left there. She’s gone for a few minutes, and it’s great, and he takes the drink a little slower. It’s not any better with how much slower he drinks it, but at least his stomach’s stopped rolling and stopped threatening to turn inside-out. He gets to relish in the silence.

His eyes are almost closed in a drunken doze when a box is dropped down in front of his face. He growls at the surprise, but he does open his eyes enough to look up at Niffty, who’s bouncing on the bar and giving him an expectant grin. Husk sits up properly, though, and grabs the box roughly, wincing at the phantom touch on his back. So the doll in the box must be facedown. Opening it up and setting the lid aside proves him right, and he picks it up, waving it at Niffty and choosing to ignore the vague dizziness from the movement. “There, is this what you wanted? I’m holding the fucking doll.”

“Good! Now tell me what it makes you feel!”

Oh,  _ fuck _ her. Therapy? Didn’t Charlie lock her psychology books away so guests couldn’t get any manipulative ideas? ... mainly Alastor, probably, not that he can’t make up his own creepy, weird fucking ideas without help. “It makes me feel fuckin’ weird, that’s what.”

She reaches out, stopping him from putting the doll back in the box. “Okay! Good! Look at it! I did! The stitching is just fantastic and it’s so neat and orderly! Oh, I hope Alastor made one of me, too! Can you feel his magic in it? Because I can!”

Husk stays quiet, turning the doll over in his hands. She was right. The stitches were better than anything he’d seen on the other dolls he’d held. Yes, there’s some wear and tear that he’d gotten hooked up on earlier, but... the fabric was worn in very specific places. Repairs had been done before, and the stitching on those repairs were still incredibly neat and pristine. Except for the head, the paws, the stomach and the back. Those are places Alastor likes to pet, when he forces Husk into cuddling. The feathers are carefully sewn on, in the respective places they came from. Full wings, feathered tail, and a suspicious piece from his eyebrow. That’s from the day they first came out to the Hotel, no doubt.

Then there’s the magic. He really does feel the magic embedded in the doll itself, aside from the standard voodoo bullshit. That unique touch of magic from Alastor, but concentrated on such a small item. How he didn’t realize it earlier is ridiculous, but... well, he was standing next to the fuckin’ guy, so maybe that just drowned it all out.

“Guess he put effort into it,” he mutters, gently putting the doll down on the blanket stuffed inside the box. Niffty seems happy about that, and she’s practically rocking back and forth in place with how excited she is. “A lot of effort.” She nods, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh. “I guess it’s... really good. At least it’s not a fucking kidney.”

Niffty had had to clean up after that kidney mishap decades ago. She seems to be glad that, at least, she doesn’t have to clean up any viscera after Charlie had basically given Alastor free reign in terms of whatever he thought Husk would like. Maybe Husk is glad that at least it’s just a voodoo doll that isn’t torn and pierced through with pins. “So? D’you like it, now? Cuz I know Alastor was nervous about giving it to you! Everyone probably saw!”

“Damn it.” She’s right. Alastor was really fucking nervous, earlier, and they haven’t heard him since. Of course the Radio Demon of all people would get nervous and  _ shy _ about giving Husk a Christmas present. Especially a Christmas present like this.

Charlie stepped up with a small smile, wearing the sweater he got her. She’d overheard Niffty, because of course she did, and now she was probably going to try to get him to talk about his feelings even more.

Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ Of fucking course.

\---

Later in the day, much later, Alastor walks into the Hotel through the front door, which is weird, because Husk is pretty damn sure the guy never left in the first place. He couldn’t be sure, obviously, thanks to the bottle in his hand being nearly the seventh he’s had today, alone. That’s definitely blood red on top of Alastor’s usual red coat. And hair. And his face? Yeah, that’s blood on his face. His excuse sounds almost muffled, but the blur of Niffty going to clean something up is pretty clear. The fucker doesn’t seem to care as he trails more red along the carpet.

Angel Dust says something to Charlie, and Vaggie says something right back, and Husk stands up, putting his bottle to the side. He’s got the box in hand, now, and the doll inside the box tucked in carefully. Husk had gotten tired of the added headache of throwing the doll around inside the box less than twenty minutes after he agreed to finally carry it around until he could show Alastor. 

Maybe he should’ve thought this through a little more. When he rounds the corner, Niffty bustling around behind him and cleaning up Alastor’s trail of blood, he sees that the door’s still open. Alastor’s smile doesn’t seem to change much, so he charges onward, the liquid courage finally a good idea. “Hey. I didn’t mean t’get so... upset. Charlie an’ Niffty talked t’me.” Well, not really. Charlie had more talked at him. Made him confront his feelings without a drink for a good half an hour. It was awful and he’d downed too much alcohol afterwards. “I... thanks. Put Vag’s gift away for you.”

It’s in the closet. Where Alastor always puts his weapons. Niffty hadn’t wanted to touch the heavenly weapon, so she made Husk go up once he had enough drink to get convinced to do something dumb like that. Alastor has his hands behind his back, so, for all Husk knows, he could already have the knife in his hand, waiting to kill Husk. He wouldn’t mind. He probably deserves it.

“Well, then, thank you, Husker! Why don’t you two run off and enjoy the evening? I’ve something to attend to!” Alastor chirps, chipper and pleasant and staticky as ever. Husk shakes his head and lets Niffty shoo him off, desperate to clean the blood before it stains the carpets. He heads back down to the lobby, glad he’s still got all his limbs, wings and tail included. Cradling the box to his chest, he can’t help the twitch of his lips in a smile. He forces that smile back down, because Angel would  _ never _ let him live that shit down, if he came back from talking to Alastor with a fucking  _ smile _ on his face, of all things.

So Husk returns downstairs, relieved that nothing awful happened. Charlie looks glad that Husk is back, all in one piece, and only trailing a small bit of residual blood behind him. He sits back down on the couch he’d been sitting on before Alastor’s return, looking ready to settle in and continue his drinking. Unfortunately, Angel Dust doesn’t let the relief last long before he appears with mistletoe over Husk’s head, and Vaggie and Charlie laugh as he swats at the spider slut with the box. Niffty jumps over the back of the couch to help slap away the spider, laughing as she stands on Husk’s head, balancing impeccably around his lopsided top hat and between his ears. Husk just grunts, the smallest of smiles pulling at his mouth.

Later, Husk finds that he didn’t really mind getting dragged into the fun and teasing between Angel and Niffty, even though it did get him stuck without as much alcohol in his system as he’d like. Sure, the weirdass gift from Alastor started the day off less than peachy, but... Husk can’t complain about passing out on the couch with Angel Dust pinning Niffty against his side. Charlie and Vaggie are fast asleep on the other couch, with more than enough room for the two of them. Alastor is nowhere to be seen, but that’s expected, after all the shit that happened.

Maybe he’ll try and make it up to the Radio Demon later. Not hunting, since Alastor definitely already did that earlier. He could try cooking. It’s been years since the last time he cooked anything for anyone, and he figures he could probably rope Niffty into it, so he can cook up some of the demon body parts the way Alastor likes it.

The guy tried. Husk can try, too.


End file.
